


Granted

by Andromache_42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Business Executive Dean Winchester, Castiel is 41, Casual Sex, Dean is 47, M/M, Minor Angst, Miscommunication, Mixing Business with Pleasure, Mostly Dean and Castiel Need to Use Their Words, Non-Binary Hannah (Supernatural), Oral Sex, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Shower Sex, Some pining, grindr hookup, silver foxes, small age difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromache_42/pseuds/Andromache_42
Summary: At forty-one, Dr. Castiel Novak is the proud recipient of a generous grant to fund his project on sustainability and urban farming from the Campbell Foundation, a small investing firm based out of Chicago. The night before he meets the award committee, lonely and pushed by his friend Balthazar, Castiel has the best sex of his life during a casual Grindr hook-up with “just-visiting” forty-seven-year-old Dean. Castiel’s life appears to be coming together, until he discovers that Dean is the head of the grant award committee. For the sake of professionalism, Castiel is willing to ignore the intense attraction between the two of them, but Dean turns out to be too tempting to resist.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Sam Winchester/Rowena MacLeod
Comments: 22
Kudos: 225
Collections: Bottom Cas Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone, and welcome! I am so excited to finally get to share this with all of you! I hope this note finds you all well.
> 
> Before we begin, I'd like to start by saying thank you to the mods for such a fun, laid-back experience. Also, thank you to my beta, whom I adore, for trying to whip this into some kind of shape! I think our hard work has paid off.
> 
> Lastly, the BIGGEST thank you and applause to the artist for this piece, AgusVedder, who is not only an awesome partner, but drew not one, but FIVE pieces of beautiful art for this little story! You can find the art masterpost [here](https://agusvedder.tumblr.com/post/617401603503325184), which you can reblog, and you ABSOLUTELY SHOULD!!!!
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/fTi151x)  
> 

Castiel had known Balthazar since they were both pimple-plagued pre-teens trying to navigate the world of burgeoning hormones as young, queer boys growing up in a small town. Despite their disparate personalities, Balthazar was still Castiel’s best friend at forty.

Which was the only reason Castiel wasn’t strangling him.

“Balthazar, I have no idea why you felt compelled to do this, but my answer is _no_.”

Balthazar scoffed, unperturbed, and slid Castiel’s phone from his grip, dancing away when Castiel tried to grab it back. “Oh, please, Cassie, this is getting ridiculous. I’ve already done all the work for you. All you have to do is scan through the specimens and make your choice.”

“I don’t need any help, Baz!” Castiel grumbled, reaching for his phone again as Balthazar deftly entered his code.

“Right, the forty-year-old bachelor doesn’t need any help with dating,” Balthazar quipped. A few quick taps and swipes, and then Balthazar held his phone up so Castiel could see the screen, but still held it out of his grasp. “Ah ah, take a look before you so blithely decide to destroy my hard work.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and squinting at the screen.

“Do you need your reading glasses, darling?”

Castiel shot Balthazar a look. He glared at the yellow and black color scheme of the profile in front of him, but he had to admit that at least Balthazar had picked a good picture.

“Where did you get that photo?” he asked. He was standing under soft amber lighting, hands tucked into the pockets of his jet-black tuxedo, head tossed back in laughter in profile to the camera. He didn’t remember ever having this picture taken.

“Hannah had it in their phone, from the donors’ gala last year. I did my research, no need to worry. Take a look at your profile.”

Castiel squinted at the small box in the top left corner. “At least you didn’t lie about my age,” he conceded.

“Of course not. You’ve officially reached ‘daddy’ status, I would hardly do anything to delegitimize you.”

The “looking for” section listed friendship, dates, or relationships, though that was stretching the truth. Castiel knew exactly what Balthazar was angling for when he created this. In fact, the smaller box at the bottom of the screen contained suspiciously few words, and Castiel growled.

“‘Flexible bottom seeks gentle top for a good time’? _Really_ , Balthazar?!”

Balthazar simply shrugged, turning the phone back around. “You can’t lie to me, Castiel, I’ve seen your dildo collection.” Castiel blushed. “And besides, you want to make sure anyone who messages you isn’t looking to rail you into next Tuesday. I know how long it’s been.”

“I am not hooking up through _Grindr_ ,” Castiel huffed, snatching his phone back from Balthazar. He backed out of his profile and was immediately accosted with rows upon rows of profile pictures, each emblazoned with the number of feet away they were. Panic gripped Castiel’s heart. “For fuck’s sake, Balthazar, what if one of my _students_ is on here?”

“Relax, I made sure to filter for age. No one under the age of thirty allowed.”

Castiel’s heart rate slowed as he idly scrolled through the pictures, then rolled his eyes again and locked his phone. He would have to change his password again. “I appreciate the effort, Baz—”

“No you don’t.”

“ _However_ ,” Castiel continued, “I am not interested. As I’ve said at least once every six months since we turned sixteen: please refrain from interfering in my love life.”

Balthazar looked sad, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I just want you to be happy, Cas.”

Castiel smiled softly. “I am. You worry too much, my friend.”

Balthazar looked like he had more to say, but thankfully refrained from saying it. They shared another glass of wine while finishing the episode of “Great British Bake Off” Balthazar had interrupted to show Castiel his new Grindr profile, and then Balthazar left. Friday night routine complete, Castiel cleaned up the wine remnants and went to change into his pajamas.

As he tucked himself into bed and peeled the plastic off the latest edition of his favorite academic journal, suddenly his apartment felt too quiet, a little too empty. He sighed, glancing at his phone on the charging plate next to his bed. The screen was dark, but Castiel had to admit he was a little tempted. Would anyone message him? He should just delete it, especially thinking about who might be on there to see . . .

He needed to delete it. Nerves getting the better of him, he swiped his phone from the charger and opened the app. There were a number of profiles displaying as less than two hundred feet from him, but he ignored them to flip through the screens to find a way to deactivate his profile. He’d managed to find the button to edit when his phone flashed with a notification. Someone had messaged him.

Castiel’s finger hovered over the “edit” button as he stared at the notification. Perhaps this was a sign? Someone was interested enough to send a message, which, given the tone of the whole thing, was immensely flattering. He moved his thumb over the notification, hesitating, before he finally took a deep breath and tapped it.

The message screen popped up immediately, the profile picture showing a well-defined chest and cut abs, clearly taken in a bathroom mirror but only from the neck down. Castiel’s libido sparked in interest despite himself, though he knew that there was no way to know if the picture actually showed the man who owned the profile. The body of the message itself read:

_hey_

Castiel hesitated on how to reply. Should he respond with “hello?” Would that be too pedantic? Perhaps he should ask about the man’s profile, find a way to see if it was real? The man’s username was “Luke,” it listed his age as thirty-five, and there was a series of vaguely decipherable shorthand in the profile description that Castiel assumed translated to all his sexual interests.

While Castiel hesitated, another message came through.

_Ur hottt_

Complete with three “t”s in a row. Castiel rolled his eyes. That kind of “text speech” always reminded him of his students, far too lazy or too prone to habitually shorten already brief words. Perhaps they were necessary ten years ago when texts were limited by character and charged at ten cents a message, but now you could draft a novel and it wouldn’t make a difference.

_U there??_

Castiel’s fingers hesitated over the keys before finally typing out:

**Hello, how are you this evening?**

He hit send before he could overthink it.

_Rly want ur mouth on my cock_

_. . ._

_U host?_

Castiel’s mouth went a little dry. It had been a very long time since he’d been intimate with anyone—Balthazar’s comment about being a bachelor notwithstanding, he was far from inexperienced—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to commit to something this . . . impersonal.

Another message appeared, this time of a thick, erect penis, a hand wrapped around his base. The camera angle wasn’t great, but based on the size of the man’s hand, he was averagely endowed and unremarkable. Castiel frowned. A dick pic wasn’t entirely unexpected, but suddenly the absurdity of the entire situation hit him all at once.

**Thank you, but I’m not interested.**

He closed the app with finality and sighed deeply before setting his phone back on the charger. He might as well keep the app for a few days; Balthazar would likely be on to his next scheme to get Castiel laid by then. That didn’t mean he had to use it. Besides, Balthazar was surely checking in to make sure he still had an active profile from his own.

Castiel was far too old for the hookup culture at this point. Balthazar would have to just get over himself.

“Happy birthday, Cas!”

Castiel raised his glass in the toast, gently clinking it together with the others’. He sipped lightly at his wine, though Balthazar drank more deeply, and Charlie threw back an entire shot of some clear liquid. Vodka: it was too early for tequila shots. Hannah caught his eye with a smirk as they, too, sipped from their pink-tinted Manhattan. Castiel appreciated whenever Hannah joined them for their outings because Balthazar usually had to be poured into an Uber at the end of the night, and Charlie ended up insisting that they all go down the street to her favorite club, though Castiel usually declined. Hannah would stay to finish a drink with him before parting ways for the night. More than once, Castiel had questioned whether he should reexamine his feelings for them (and more than once Hannah had hinted romantic interest), but ever since Castiel had met them at new faculty orientation ten years ago, there had only been platonic feelings there.

“To forty-one!” Charlie cheered, inviting another toast before polishing off another shot.

“And to your new grant!” Hannah added, saluting Castiel from across the table.

“Yes, forty-one and still perpetually single!” Balthazar crowed.

“Aww, he can’t help that he’s picky,” Charlie teased.

“Castiel is just waiting for the right person,” Hannah said.

“Thank you, Hannah.”

“Yes, and yet he has _not_ been taking advantage of the perfect opportunity I provided him,” Balthazar droned.

“Oh, no, Cas, did you let Baz set you up?” Charlie groaned. Castiel cleared his throat.

“Not quite.”

“Please, Red, ye of such _little_ faith. I simply provided Castiel with the means to find a way to become partnered this late in adulthood through contemporary, technological means.”

“He made me a Grindr profile,” Castiel interpreted. Hannah huffed indignantly, but Charlie burst out laughing.

“Classy, Balthazar,” Hannah said while Charlie continued to giggle.

“Okay, seriously, we gotta see it,” Charlie said, holding a hand out for Castiel’s phone.

“No, absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Cas, you know I can just find it later on my own.” She raised her brow as he stared her down. It was the knowledge that she could do far more damage later on her own that had him unlocking his phone and sliding it over. Charlie’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.

“Whoa! You’ve got, like, fifty messages in here! Have you checked these?”

“I haven’t logged in since the day Balthazar told me about it.”

Charlie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Damn! I mean, I’m 100% all about the ladies, but some of these guys are objectively hot! Also: gross. So many dicks. Why are guys like this?”

“To each their own, Red,” Balthazar quipped slyly, sipping on his drink. Charlie stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you seriously considering hooking up with one of these men, Castiel?” Hannah asked, looking over Charlie’s shoulder as she scrolled through the messages.

“No, he isn’t, because our beloved Cassie is a bloody prude,” Balthazar snapped.

“Baz, don’t be a dick,” Charlie replied, without heat.

“Picky is not prudish,” Hannah added.

Castiel stared into his drink. Balthazar was wrong, of course, but the fact remained: he was forty-one now and unpartnered, rapidly approaching old age alone.

“Maybe I’ll get a cat,” Castiel offered.

“You know, that is the final thing to push you right over the edge into the ‘aging queen’ stereotype,” Balthazar hummed.

“That’s enough,” Hannah said with finality. Balthazar shrugged, but didn’t say anything more.

Charlie managed to change the subject, but Castiel found himself stuck half in a melancholy mood. He smiled and laughed through the rest of the evening, but as they were parting ways on the sidewalk outside of the bar, he couldn’t help but sink into it a little. Charlie threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Happy birthday, Cas!” she said. He kissed her on the top of the head and hugged back.

“Thanks, Charlie,” he said, smiling at her as she gave him her traditional Vulcan salute on her way down the street to meet up with some of her other friends.

“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” Balthazar said as he kissed both of his cheeks in farewell. “It doesn’t have to be true love, you know. Sometimes it’s better if it isn’t.”

“I’m aware of the concept of casual sex, Balthazar,” Castiel replied. Balthazar blew Hannah a kiss before climbing into his cab. Hannah had their arms crossed over their chest and fixed Castiel with a stare.

“There isn’t anything wrong with you, you know,” they said. “If you don’t want to have casual sex, or any sex at all, that is none of Balthazar’s business.”

Castiel smiled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Hannah’s cheek, which they returned. “I know. Thank you, Hannah.”

They didn’t seem convinced, but blessedly no more was said on the subject. “Have a good night, Castiel,” Hannah said as they turned to walk toward their apartment.

“Good night,” Castiel called before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The September night air was sharp and crisp, the scents of the city washing over him as he made his way back toward his apartment. In the quiet night, though, he couldn’t help but think over Balthazar’s teasing suggestions. He’d spent a long time building his career, but as he entered his early forties, he settled into a quieter, less frantic era. He still had a book to finish, but since he earned promotion it isn’t necessarily the same “publish-or-perish” situation he’d been in just a few years ago.

He was lonely. As difficult as it was to admit, it was true.

Walking home that night, though, he wondered if he was truly seeking a relationship, or if he just needed to feel human connection again? He pondered the question as he arrived home and changed into comfortable clothes for the night. Sitting on the sofa he opened his phone, pulling up the Grindr app, still open to his messages. While most of them were old, a few had popped up a few hours ago while he was out from men who had been in nearby bars, but as he was looking through them a new one came in. Out of sheer curiosity, he opened it.

The profile picture was of a handsome, smiling man standing on a beach wearing a ridiculously tiny pair of peach-colored swim shorts and an enormous pair of aviator sunglasses. Castiel felt his heart race as he studied the grin, the splash of freckles splayed over his nose and cheeks, and the sunlight playing through light brown hair. It was difficult to tell in the sunlight, but there might have been a few streaks of grey at the man’s temples. He was fit, but not overly so, his chest and abs shadowed by the angle of the sun, and a sparse dusting of hair lay in a triangle over his sternum and trailing down toward his shorts. And, there: that made sense for a hook-up app profile. Castiel felt arousal stir as he looked over the attractive bulge cupped in the light-colored swim trunks.

“Dean” the profile read. Forty-seven, looking for dates and friends. “New in town” was all that the lower box said, framed just below that incredibly enticing package.

With an enthusiasm Castiel refused to acknowledge, he clicked back into the message, hoping to find something promising there. He couldn’t help but grin at what he saw.

_Okay, so gotta know: what’s a secret agent doing on an app like this?_

Castiel found himself immediately replying.

**What gave me away?**

_Nobody but Bond looks that good in a tux._

**It isn’t as impressive as the shorts.**

_See, now that’s not fair. As much as I love the tux, you’ve got me at a disadvantage._

Castiel chewed his lip. He didn’t have any pictures that showed as much as Dean’s; he’d have to take one, and how should he do that? There was a full-length mirror in his bathroom, and the lighting wasn’t bad, but wasn’t that tacky? And what should he wear?

_Oh man._

_Sorry._

_Didn’t mean to freak you out._

_I’ve been told I come on too strong._

Castiel smiled at the rapid-fire apologies and made a decision.

**It’s okay.**

**Give me a moment.**

He pushed himself from the sofa and went to his bedroom. He fished through his underwear drawer until he found the ridiculous, tiny silk boxer shorts Balthazar had bought him for Christmas last year claiming the electric blue would bring out his eyes. He slipped out of his pajamas and slid them on, adjusting his rapidly chubbing cock into the pouch in front so it was framed nicely. He looked around the room for the moment, wondering if he should add anything else before his gaze fell on his favorite blue silk tie and the birthday hat from the celebration at work today. Feeling slightly giddy, he looped the tie around his neck and placed the hat on his head at an angle. He quickly headed into the bathroom and adjusted everything until he worried he was taking too long and Dean would lose interest. He turned to the full-length mirror and angled his phone so that the picture would catch all of him but wouldn’t hide any of his features. He took three, until he finally was satisfied with one and sent it before he could stop himself.

Castiel waited for the reply, but when it didn’t come through immediately he went back into his room and started to take off the ridiculous outfit. He nearly jumped when his phone buzzed with a notification.

 _Okay,_ now _I gotta see the back view._

Castiel chewed on his lip before managing to reply.

**You first.**

A few moments passed. Castiel started to understand Dean’s panicked messages earlier and had begun writing his own apologetic reply in his head when a picture came through.

It was a bathroom mirror selfie, just like Castiel’s, clearly taken in a hotel room. Dean had turned his back completely to the mirror, strong muscles visible beneath tan skin dusted in freckles. Just visible above the counter was Dean’s ass cupped appealingly in a pair of fashionable red cotton briefs trimmed in white.

_Your turn, sweetheart._

Castiel blushed, despite being alone. He readjusted his shorts and went back into the bathroom. He turned his back to the mirror, twisting just enough so that he could get his own picture. His ass did look really good in the shorts, he thought blithely as he sent the picture off. It didn’t take long to get a reply.

_Fuck, can we meet? Wanna get my hands on you really bad._

Castiel worked to control his breathing. Was he going to do this? He was no stranger to one-night-stands, but it had really been since grad school that he’d indulged in one. The last time he’d gotten laid was nearly five years ago now, and that wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. He was forty-one years old today.

If he was really going to do this, what better night than tonight?

**Okay. Roadhouse on tenth?**

_Uh, how about Blue? Over on Hill Street._

Castiel wondered about the hesitation. He’d been to Blue before; it was an upscale bar where businessmen went in suits and spent a lot of time talking in hushed tones. It wasn’t usually his speed, but if Dean was new in town maybe he didn’t know much.

**Sounds good.**

_Be there in thirty?_

Castiel wondered if he’d have time to get ready by then, but if he called the Uber now, he could get ready in the meantime.

Castiel sent his agreement before pulling up the Uber app and ordering a car. He spent ten minutes desperately cleaning any important bits before pulling the blue shorts back on and dressing in the outfit he’d worn to go out with his friends earlier. He barely remembered to send off a quick text with a screenshot of Dean’s profile to Charlie before hopping in the car and heading off to his destination.

Charlie sent back a series of exclamation points, but Castiel didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to calm his nerves on his way to the bar.

Was he really going to do this? He didn’t have to decide right away. He could always apologize to Dean and try again another time. And delete that stupid app from his phone.

The car pulled up to Blue and Castiel started to panic. This was a bad idea. But he couldn’t just ask the car to turn around and take him home. He’d go inside, see if Dean was there, then he could call another car if he wanted to. No pressure.

His phone buzzed, but it was just a text from Charlie. _Go get ‘em, tiger!_ she said. Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little.

The inside of Blue was, well, _blue_. It was a small, sterile place decorated in white plexiglass and shining chrome, but every surface was lit with various shades of blue lighting. He slipped inside and glanced around the small space, but it seemed he’d beat Dean there. Or, maybe Dean wasn’t coming.

He ordered a whiskey at the bar, then found a place to sit at a high-top where he could see the door. The atmosphere was subdued, cool jazz playing in the background while the well-dressed patrons sipped martinis and chatted quietly among themselves. Castiel nursed his whiskey for long enough that he started to wonder if Dean was even going to show. He’d pulled his phone back out and was bringing up the Uber app when the door opened and a tall, handsome figure walked in.

The first thing Castiel noticed was the breathtaking smile that broke out across Dean’s face when their eyes met. With relief, he realized the picture had been real, though immediately after that he felt his mouth go completely dry. Dean was even _more_ gorgeous in person. As he approached, Castiel noticed that there were laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and at the corners of his lips, and just a hint of grey hair along his temples, but other than that there was no way this perfect man could be forty-seven. The blue light obscured the true color of his eyes, but his freckles stood out starkly on his skin and Castiel felt the urge to kiss every one of them. He realized too late that he was staring, but Dean just grinned.

“Wow, even hotter in person,” Dean said with a wink. Castiel gaped like a fish.

“I was just thinking the same,” Castiel said. Dean laughed, a light, pleasant sound, before holding out a hand for Castiel to shake.

“I’m Dean,” he said, voice rough and deep, but his hand was soft when Castiel shook it.

“Castiel,” he replied.

“Well, what do you say, Cas? Want to finish your drink, or do you think maybe we could head back to my place?”

“I might be amenable,” Castiel said softly.

Dean, it turned out, was staying in a fancy downtown hotel just a few blocks from the bar. They didn’t talk much on their way, but at one point Dean reached out and slipped his hand into Castiel’s back pocket. Castiel’s pulse kicked up and he wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist in return.

They were on each other before the hotel room door even closed. Dean pressed Castiel up against it, clicking it shut, with firm pressure, but without violence. Castiel shuddered as Dean’s body pressed slowly, firmly into his own from hips to shoulders. Dean’s mouth hovered an inch above his own, their rapidly accelerating breath mingling together. Castiel’s gaze flickered between Dean’s eyes—green, they were impossibly green—and his wet, plush bottom lip as Dean reached down and wrapped his hands around Castiel’s wrists. Slowly, very slowly, Dean dragged Castiel’s wrists up the door until they were pinned over his head. Castiel’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling against Dean’s, air thickening around them.

“Can I kiss you, Cas?” Dean breathed.

“Yes,” Castiel hissed, and then Dean’s mouth was on him, devouring him. Castiel let out a tiny whimper, his fingers flexing against nothing as Dean held him fast against the door. As they sank their weight into each other, Dean brushed Castiel’s palms and then laced their fingers together. Castiel grasped onto Dean’s hands tightly as Dean plundered his mouth, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the inside of his wrists. Castiel practically melted at the touch, whining as Dean pulled back to rest their foreheads together.

“Damn, you’re good at that,” Dean said. Castiel chuckled.

“You aren’t too bad, either,” he replied. Dean grinned.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Cas, anybody ever tell you that?” Dean whispered, nudging Castiel’s jaw so that he exposed the soft, tender skin of his throat. Castiel gasped as Dean pressed tiny, fluttering kisses into the pulse point there. Castiel ached with the need to touch.

“Please, Dean,” he groaned, “let me—I want to touch you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean agreed, and then suddenly Castiel’s hands were free to roam. He immediately grabbed Dean’s ass and pulled their hips tight together, driving his rock-hard cock into the crease of Dean’s thigh. Dean moaned and dropped his head back.

“Ah, shit,” Dean hissed, grinding his own dick against Castiel’s pelvis. “Could you come like this, Cas?” Dean teased as Castiel drove his cock into Dean’s hip, the slick slide of pre-come against the silk of his boxers driving him further toward release. Castiel nodded into Dean’s neck, and Dean huffed a breathless laugh. “Gonna come all over yourself, just from grinding on me? You want me that bad?”

“Yes,” Castiel panted. “Want you. To come for you.”

Dean lost his grip at that, shifting just enough to let the pressure up a little and Castiel whined at the loss. “Don’t worry, beautiful, I got better plans,” Dean said, stroking gently over Castiel’s cheekbone. Castiel shivered. Dean pressed another soft kiss into the hinge of his jaw, then breathed hot in his ear, “Gonna bury my cock in that perfect ass of yours.”

“That,” Castiel agreed. “I want that.”

Dean laughed, then kissed Castiel’s lips again, ever so gently, sucking Castiel’s lower lip into his mouth and worrying it slightly between his teeth. He pulled back, and Castiel must have looked as dazed as he felt because Dean let out a small laugh at the sight. “Come on,” he said, taking Castiel’s hand and leading him further into the hotel room.

It was a small suite, with a sitting room and kitchenette, a closed door that presumably led to the bathroom, and an open door that led into a sizeable room with an enormous king-sized bed. Castiel wondered briefly what Dean did for a living that would bring him to town into such nice accommodations.

But this was clearly not that kind of hook-up. Castiel had barely taken two steps into the bedroom before Dean was behind him, strong arms wrapped around his middle and rock-hard cock slotting between his cheeks. Castiel sighed, reaching back to tangle a hand in Dean’s hair as he sucked kisses up Castiel’s throat.

“No marks,” Castiel managed, and Dean pulled off immediately, pressing one more kiss to the spot he’d been worrying at the junction of Castiel’s neck and shoulder.

“Shame,” Dean murmured. Dean’s arms slipped from around him and he crossed the room to turn on the lamps. They washed the room in a golden glow, which just made Dean even more attractive.

Slowly, Castiel moved across the room, kicking his shoes off and shrugging off his jacket. Dean reached up and loosened his own tie, pulling it over his head and discarding his suit jacket. Castiel took in the details of Dean’s features up close as they slowly unbuttoned each others’ shirts. This close, the grey in his temples and stubble was more pronounced, streaks of silver scattered through his honey-brown hair. As they dropped their shirts to the ground, Dean slid his hands under Castiel’s undershirt and gently tugged it up and over his head, fingertips skirting over Castiel’s sides and causing him to flinch. Dean smirked.

“Ticklish?” he teased, but Castiel got his revenge as he dug his own fingertips into Dean’s side, causing Dean to crumple with laughter, falling to the bed as Castiel chased him to continue his assault. Dean finally got hold of Castiel’s wrists again and flipped them so he straddled Castiel’s chest, Castiel’s feet planted on the floor. Dean kept eye contact as he pulled his own undershirt over his head. He pulled back at first when Castiel reached up to trail fingers down the dusting of silvered chest hair that led over Dean’s waist (trim but soft around the edges) and disappeared below his belly button and into his pants. Castiel followed it further, skating fingers over the impressive bulge pressing against Dean’s zipper. Dean shuddered, then reached down and pressed Castiel’s hand firmly into the hard line of his cock.

“God, your hands,” Dean breathed, grinding against Castiel’s palm as he pressed the heel of his hand into Dean’s hot length. Castiel’s mouth watered, a brief flash of desire to get his lips around it as Dean rode the pressure of his grip. Dean collapsed forward, planting his hands on the bed above Castel’s head as Castiel rubbed him through the fabric with one hand. He snaked the other around Dean’s thigh and worked on undoing his belt and button. Dean caught on to what he was doing and reached down to help, finally working the zipper down and revealing a large, dark spot on the red briefs he’d been wearing in the picture from earlier. They hugged his cock nicely, seaming trimmed in white outlining the impressive shape of him. Castiel grabbed the waist of Dean’s pants and pushed them down as far as he could with Dean still straddling his chest. He eased the waistband of Dean’s underwear down enough for the head of his cock to peek out and moaned.

“Fuck, Cas, gonna give me a complex,” Dean said, sliding down Castiel’s body to step out of his pants. He reached to take off his briefs, too, but Castiel stopped him.

“Leave ‘em on,” Castiel slurred, dazed with desire. Dean hesitated for a moment, then kicked his pants and socks off before diving back in to devour Castiel’s mouth again. Suddenly, Dean was in a rush to get Castiel the rest of the way undressed, though he groaned and dropped to his knees when he saw Castiel’s underwear.

“You wore them,” Dean breathed, his hot, moist breath warming the satin. Castiel shivered as Dean mouthed at his cock through the fabric. “Jesus, turn over, Cas, gotta see . . .”

Castiel kicked his way out of the rest of his pants before turning over and crawling up onto the bed on his hands and knees, satin-covered ass in the air. Dean swore, sliding his hands up the outside of Castiel’s thick thighs to play with the hem of his shorts. “This ass is amazing,” Dean said, grabbing a handful and kneading it roughly. Castiel moaned and pushed back into the touch. “Firm and perky,” Dean said, smacking his ass cheek playfully and laughing when Castiel let out a yelp.

“Wanna feel you,” Castiel said, glancing back over his shoulder.

Dean leaned over to the bedside table and pulled out a strip of condoms and a quarter-full bottle of lube. He made a series of reverent noises as he eased Castiel’s shorts over the swell of his ass. Castiel groaned as Dean pulled his cheeks apart and exposed his tight hole to the air. The head of his cock was caught in the fabric of the front of his shorts, and with every move the satin pulled tight over it making him moan. The pop of a cap made Castiel shudder.

Castiel tried to relax as Dean circled his hole with one slick finger, teasing the nerve endings as Castiel moaned and pressed his ass up in the air and his face into the mattress. Dean dipped the tip of his finger into his entrance and swore again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Castiel gasped sharply as Dean prodded at his entrance with two slick fingers, spreading the lube and working him open. It was too shallow to feel spectacular yet, but Castiel had always been sensitive and it had been a long time. He relaxed into Dean’s expert touch, moaning and whispering encouragement to get Dean where he wanted him most. Dean leaned down and pressed kisses into his back, along his shoulder blades. He stroked Castiel’s cock slowly, just enough to keep him on edge as he opened him up.

“So good for me,” Dean whispered, finally brushing over Castiel’s prostate.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Dean, _there_!” he shouted, arching his back into it. Dean chuckled.

“I’ve got you,” Dean said, rubbing gently along Castiel’s flank to soothe him, circling his prostate at the same time. Castiel whined as his cock dribbled pre-come into his too-tight underwear. He was exhausted, his body was thrumming, and now he just wanted Dean to get _in him_.

“Patience,” Dean murmured. A twinge in Castiel’s lower back interrupted the warmth building in his belly.

“Wait,” Castiel managed, squirming to roll to his side. “Can we maybe . . .”

“You okay?” Dean asked, easing his fingers out of Castiel, his eyes full of concern. Castiel smiled sheepishly.

“A little stiff,” Castiel said. Dean’s eyes flicked down to his cock, still straining against his underwear, and Castiel rolled his eyes. “My back,” Castiel said.

“Oh!” Dean quickly moved to let Castiel adjust. Castiel turned so his head was on the pillows near the headboard, and laid flat his stomach on the bed, legs spread enough to let Dean in between them. Dean carefully lifted Castiel’s right leg so his knee was at more of an angle, spreading him open a bit more. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Better,” Castiel sighed, relaxing into the pillows. Dean chuckled, then eased Castiel the rest of the way out of his underwear, sliding them down over Castiel’s legs and discarding the damp garment on the floor.

The sound of the foil wrapper, another click of the lube bottle, and then Dean was straddling Castiel’s ass, the thick head of his cock pressing between his cheeks.

“You ready, baby?” Dean asked. Castiel tamped down the butterflies and nodded. “Gonna need more than that, angel. Enthusiastic consent is sexy.”

“Please fuck me, Dean,” Castiel rumbled, and then Dean was sinking in, slowly at first, the fat head of his cock spreading him wide. Castiel groaned at the intrusion and tried to spread his legs more to give Dean better access.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, adjusting his position a little and sinking in a bit deeper. “So tight . . .”

“Mmm, feels good,” Castiel moaned. “So big, _fuck_.”

Dean laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Dean said breathily, sinking in further. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Castiel managed, and then Dean _did_. It only took another moment for Castiel to adjust, and then Dean was pounding into him hard enough to rattle the headboard. Castiel gripped the pillow hard and tried to catch his breath as Dean fucked a series of noises out of him that Castiel didn’t even recognize as his own.

The friction on his cock from Dean’s thrusts driving him into the bed was overwhelming, and it wasn’t long until Castiel’s core tightened against the coming orgasm.

“Dean—“ Castiel gasped, pushing back into Dean’s thrusts. “Fuck, Dean, gonna come . . .”

“Yeah you are, can feel it, feel you gettin’ tighter,” Dean panted. He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist and held him tight, grinding deep into him, cock nailing Castiel’s prostate. A high-pitched whine worked its way out of Castiel’s throat as Dean turned his head enough to kiss the corner of his mouth sloppily. “Come for me,” Dean gasped, and then Castiel was soaking the sheets beneath him, shuddering out the last waves as Dean’s thrusts got more erratic.

“Can I come on you?” Dean whispered. “Make you mine.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Castiel murmured, and then Dean was pulling out, stripping himself of the condom and fucking into his fist. His bare cockhead nudged Castiel’s used hole, and Castiel sucked in a sharp breath as a warm spurt of come landed on his hole before Dean adjusted and painted his ass cheeks with it. It seemed to go on and on, until finally Dean collapsed next to Castiel, breathing hard into the sheets. Castiel blinked against the sluggish satisfaction taking over him, meeting Dean’s hooded gaze. A slow grin spread over Dean’s face as he lifted a hand to trace Castiel’s cheekbone. Castiel smiled, gummy and relaxed. A bright warmth bloomed in his chest as they lay there together, heartrates returning to normal. Castiel reached up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s.

“Dean, I—”

Somewhere on the floor an unfamiliar guitar riff sounded, startling Dean out of the moment. “Shit,” Dean muttered, hauling himself out of bed. He padded over to the jeans on the floor, silencing the ringtone on his phone before turning back to Castiel. Whatever had stretched between them earlier was gone as Dean rubbed the back of his head as he looked at Castiel awkwardly. Suddenly, the room was cold.

“Do you have something I could use to clean up--?” Castiel asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, rushing into the bathroom. He returned quickly with a washcloth soaked in warm water.

“Thanks,” Castiel said, taking the cloth from Dean and wiping himself down perfunctorily. He ached, but it was a good ache. Castiel focused on that as the tension rose between them.

“Sure thing, Cas,” Dean said, taking the washcloth back to the bathroom. Castiel shifted to a sitting position and started to sort through their clothes. Dean came back and hovered, watching Castiel search. “Look, I um . . .”

“I have to get going,” Castiel said, standing and gathering his clothes, attempting to hide his wince.

“I had a really good time,” Dean started, but Castiel cut him off, determined not to make this weird.

“Me, too. Thank you for inviting me,” he said, shifting awkwardly.

“Um, yeah. No problem.”

Castiel managed to gather everything together, then stood with all his clothes in his arms. Dean was watching him with a strange look on his face. Castiel lifted his clothes in an indicative gesture.

“I’ll just get dressed and then call an Uber.”

“Um, sure.”

Castiel dressed quickly in the sitting room, ordered his car, and then there was nothing left to do but leave. Dean was waiting in the bedroom door, wrapped in a fluffy fancy-hotel robe, looking oddly conflicted. Castiel waited with one hand on the doorknob, silence stretching between them.

“Thanks . . . again,” Castiel said. Dean just nodded.

“Don’t mention it.”

Another moment passed, but Dean didn’t move. “I’ll . . . see you around,” Castiel said.

“Sure.”

Castiel tamped down on the disappointment and unease he felt as he stepped out into the hallway, convincing himself not to turn back and watch the door close behind him.

The Uber driver was late, which meant Castiel had to wait in the fancy hotel lobby while people walked past him and stared. He knew he had to reek of sex, so he was grateful when the car arrived and he could avoid getting the police called on him for prostitution.

He had no idea why he was starting to feel like shit. It was a hook-up, it was only ever meant to be a hook-up, and even though it had been the most amazing sex Castiel had ever had, it was a _Grindr_ hook-up. That’s all.

Melancholy had fully set in by the time he got back to his apartment, but nothing a hot shower and a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. As he settled in for bed, he felt a little better, even though he knew he’d still be sore in the morning, it would eventually fade. As for Dean . . .

He pulled up the Grindr app, and ignoring any messages, deleted the entire thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was still sore enough on Monday morning that he briefly considered calling in to work just to avoid Balthazar’s judgmental eye. Any other day of the semester and he might have done it, but the funding committee for his grant was coming in to meet with him and the department chair before the official grant-authorizing ceremony later that week. There was a luncheon that afternoon, and he would have to help guide them around campus, then show them the setup for the project, and finally on Thursday night there would be a ceremony and banquet for the program and its donors. Castiel blushed deeply when he thought of wearing his tuxedo, but he didn’t have much choice. It was a black-tie only event and, unfortunately, he would be expected to attend.

He dragged himself into the shower and forced himself into a charcoal-gray suit that he saved for special occasions. He considered his favorite blue tie before settling on a forest green one. He grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door to face the day.

“Morning, Cas,” Hannah greeted him as he walked into the department’s office. Hannah’s own office was down the hall, but the departmental office had the best coffee, so the other professors were often spotted in here during breaks. As the ranking tenured professor directly below the department chair, Castiel had the privilege of a large, window-lined office connected to the main one. Which meant easy access to the good coffee and the buffer of Hael, their department secretary, between him and any concerned students. However, it also unfortunately put him in proximity of the department chair herself.

Dr. Naomi Milton was a powerhouse in her field and an excellent departmental representative, but personally . . . well, Naomi was best described by the nickname her graduate students gave her: “The Ice Monster.” Frigid and terrifying, Naomi somehow had a soft spot for Castiel, despite what she called his “hippie tree-hugger tendencies.” It was his research into sustainability and urban farming that had gotten the department their biggest grant in decades and led to Naomi’s favoritism.

“Castiel.”

Naomi swept in and the air in the room dropped about five degrees. Castiel nodded. “Naomi.”

“I am aware you teach at eleven, but please don’t dawdle on your way to the meeting. The representatives of the Campbell Foundation will be here promptly at noon for the luncheon.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel’s morning class was an energetic group of seniors eager to work on their final projects. He wanted to find a way to incorporate some of them into his research group for the grant once funding was solidified. Several had great ideas they could apply to his urban farming project.

The weather was nice as he made his way back to the environmental science building. It helped ground him as he tried to focus on impressing the committee while they were here. They had already awarded him the grant, but the Campbell Foundation had an entire division dedicated to sustainability and food access that he hoped he could work more closely with in the future. And it was nice that such a large organization was relatively local. Chicago was much closer to Kansas than many of the small corporations that funded projects like his.

He was hoping to make a detour by his office to drop off his briefcase and trench coat, but when he got back to the main office, he found it was already occupied by Naomi and a group of four additional people he didn’t recognize. One was a petite woman with red hair pulled back into an elaborate updo, another was a very tall man with chin-length brown hair, and the other two he struggled to see from his vantage point outside of the office windows. He took a deep breath and straightened his suit jacket before stepping into the office.

“Here he is now,” Naomi said, gesturing to Castiel. The four strangers turned to look at him and Castiel attempted a smile.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” the small redhead said in a lilting Scottish accent. She offered him her hand, and it only took a small amount of awkward shifting before he could shake it. “Rowena MacLeod.”

“Castiel Novak,” he said. The very tall man extended his hand next.

“Sam Winchester,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel replied. The other woman beside Sam smiled kindly and offered her hand.

“Donna Hanscum,” she said, vigorously pumping his hand in greeting. Castiel turned to the second man and nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said, his smile warm but eyes incredibly cold. Castiel hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook Dean’s hand. His palm tingled as they touched, but Dean took his hand away after barely a moment. He glanced around to make sure no one noticed, but it appeared no one saw anything out of the ordinary.

“Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let us show you our campus!”

Castiel felt eyes on him the entire way across campus to the Alumni Building. He longed to text either Balthazar or Charlie about this, but there was no way he would be able to get his phone out without arousing suspicion (and probably inviting a scathing lecture from Naomi later about rudeness). He half-listened to Naomi go on about the botanical designs on the quad, and the various periods of architectural design, and where the university was planning to expand in their five-year plan. Donna and Sam seemed genuinely interested, following along and reacting in all the right places. Rowena was walking silently along beside him, but the presence behind him was all Castiel could focus on as they walked. The last time he’d felt those eyes on his back . . .

He shivered a little, shaking off the thoughts of last night. He was an adult; he could handle this. If Dean was able to pretend they’d never met, then Castiel could do the same thing.

The luncheon was full of the various department chairs and deans, along with a few influential donors, and the leadership of the University. Castiel had been preparing himself for weeks, knowing he would be required to interact socially with unfamiliar people, but he still struggled to keep up with the pace of conversation. He could only hope he’d managed to come across as interested and quiet, rather than _bizarre and unaffected_ , as Balthazar would put it.

Dean sat across the table from him and somehow managed to avoid looking at him once. Castiel tried not to steal glances, but found his eyes flickering over to him more than he liked. Dean was gregarious, smiling and laughing and making conversation with everyone at the table except him.

The luncheon couldn’t pass quickly enough, and when it was over Castiel rose from his seat with a vague excuse and dashed off toward his office.

“Hey, Cas, wait!” a voice called to him from down the hallway.

“Sorry, Mr. Winchester, but I have office hours in a few minutes.”

Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him into a deserted side hallway. “Let go of me!” Castiel hissed, jerking his hand out of Dean’s grasp. Dean held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry! Look, Cas, I just wanted to explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain. We were both consenting adults who had a casual encounter, and now I find out you’re part of the board giving me money. I understand how that looks, so of course we have to keep it a secret.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, green eye searching for something. “I promise I’m not always this big of an asshole,” he said.

“It was an honest mistake,” Castiel offered. Dean nodded at him.

“Yeah, okay. Honest mistake.”

“Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Anyone.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

“Yup, same page. No hard feelings.”

“None.”

The silence stretched long between them, growing more awkward with each moment until finally the chatter of the others leaving the luncheon startled Castiel into movement. “I’ll see you at the meeting,” Castiel said before striding off to his office.

“Wait, he’s _what_?!”

Castiel held the phone away from his ear at Charlie’s shriek. “Please, Charlie, a little louder. I think I still have a functioning ear drum.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, I thought about looking into him when you sent me the screenshot, just to make sure he’s good enough for my bestie, and then you find out he’s the head of the board of the company behind your grant? That’s just . . . Cas, this is _romance novel worthy_ shit!”

“No, no, this is nothing of the kind,” Castiel warned. “This is a business transaction, this is my career, this is something we are not discussing beyond this conversation. In fact, this conversation never happened.”

Charlie was noticeably quiet on the other end. “So . . . what you’re saying is, you don’t want me to look into him?”

“Yes, I am saying that.”

Charlie sighed deeply. “Okay, fine. It goes against everything in my nature, but I will respect your wishes.”

“Thank you.”

“ . . . . was the sex good, at least?”

“Charlie . . .” Castiel groaned.

“That either means it was very, very good, or very, very bad.”

“It was . . . a satisfactory hookup.”

“Holy shit, it was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“Oh my god, it was the best you’ve ever had, wasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, was I talking to my friend Charlie the lesbian, or is Balthazar pretending to be you again?”

“I’m so happy for you, Cas!”

Castiel sighed, leaning back against his sofa. “Thank you,” he replied. “Now please, let’s drop the whole thing, okay?”

“Promise.”

The email alert chimed on Castiel’s phone, and he pulled it away from his ear to look at it. The email address was unfamiliar, but his heart skipped a beat when the sender’s address in the preview began with “winchest—“. He put the phone back to his ear quickly. “Sorry, Charlie, I have to go.”

“Did he message you?” Charlie asked slyly.

“Charlie—”

“Okay, okay, dropping it. Message received! We still on for drinks this weekend?”

“As usual. Talk to you later.”

“Later!”

Castiel ended the call and took a deep breath before bringing the email up onto his screen. It was from winchesterd@campbellfund.org. Castiel took a deep breath before opening it.

_Castiel,  
I apologize for any misunderstanding between us. If you’re available, I’d like to meet for dinner to discuss the details of your grant and future projects.  
Sincerely,  
Dean Winchester _

Castiel pursed his lips as his finger hovered over the “reply” button. It wasn’t a good idea, being seen alone with Dean, especially if anyone had seen them at Blue the other night, or, god forbid, going back to his hotel room. But a business dinner . . .

**Dean,  
I would love to meet to discuss the grant. Let me know the time and location . . . **

Castiel hoped Dean was paying for dinner as the Uber dropped him off in front of the college town’s only truly upscale restaurant. Kale had started as a joke among the small group of vegan professors on campus shortly before Castiel’s arrival at the university until one of them went to culinary school and decided to open a high-end restaurant in the heart of downtown. Now, it was frequented by the few elite that managed to pass through town on business with the university. He gave the name “Winchester” at the door and was escorted to a semi-private table near the windows looking out onto the courtyard. Dean was waiting, still just as hot as ever in the suit he’d worn to campus that day. Castiel’s cheeks flushed as he pulled his chair out and sat. He ordered water before turning to face Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“I wanted to apologize,” Dean began. “Really, that’s all this is. I think your work’s really awesome, and I don’t want to do anything to mess up your grant.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied. “It means a lot to me, and your company’s investment is very important to the project’s survival.”

The waiter returned with a glass of water for Castiel, and Dean ordered a bacon-mushroom appetizer to share. Castiel opened the menu and chuckled at the lack of prices next to anything.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. Just, the irony of discussing a project about food deserts while we’re in a restaurant that doesn’t have prices on the menu.”

Dean huffed a laugh, looking sheepishly at his plate. “Yeah, well, it was recommended by Dr. Milton, so . . .”

“Yes, Naomi has fine tastes,” Castiel replied, sipping at his water. Dean shook his head.

“I hope you don’t think I’m used to this kind of thing,” he said.

“I don’t know what to think, I don’t know you at all,” Castiel quipped.

“Well, it wasn’t always caviar and champagne, believe me. Let’s just say there’s a reason I was drawn to your project.”

As the appetizer arrived, Castiel was grateful for the change in the atmosphere. He munched thoughtfully on the crispy bacon and mushrooms, the silence stretching long between them. Castiel watched Dean as he stared of out the window and was struck again by how handsome he was. If it had been any other time and place, he would have been beside himself to be out on a date with this man. As it was, the phantom of Dean’s touch, the fluttering kisses on his neck, the feel of him stretching Castiel wide for the first time . . . it was all distracting enough that he had to shift in his seat.

“I really do want to apologize for the other night,” Dean said. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“I thought we just agreed to put it behind us—”

“No, I know, but . . . I was an asshole, when you left, so . . . sorry.” Castiel sighed.

“Thank you,” he said tersely.

“And, I really do love your project. It’s . . . I know urban farming collectives are trendy, but that’s not why I want to support it.”

Castiel watched the faraway look cross Dean’s face and, despite himself, was intrigued. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Dean laughed joylessly. “You have no idea.”

“So tell me.”

Dean’s eye contact was intense, a laser focus that made Castiel want to squirm. “I thought this was strictly business?”

“Dean, we’re discussing the grant. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”

Dean took a deep breath before he spoke. “My mom was the Campbell. When she married my dad, they weren’t exactly lining up to give them opportunities. My dad was a mechanic, and mom stayed home with me and Sam—he’s my brother, on the committee with me—when we were little, and she wasn’t really a great cook, so . . . let’s just say, having any kind of opportunity like your proposal for the collective would have saved us a lot of hungry nights.”

“For me, it was the complete opposite,” Castiel confessed. “My family had money, we were always traveling, dining in fancy restaurants. I attended private schools and it wasn’t until I went to college that I realized that it wasn’t personal fault that led to poverty and hunger. When I found out about the ways the system created and maintained inequities, well . . . let’s just say I wasn’t invested in commercial farming the way my family was.

“I grew up lucky,” Castiel continued. “My parents had everything, and I never wanted for anything. But some of my best friends struggled, and I always thought that with all the money and all the power in the world, someone should be able to fix it.”

“Agriculture money?”

Castiel chuckled. “Industrial farming. My uncle Zachariah was devastated when I went into environmental sciences instead of ag, but I vowed I wasn’t going to sell my soul to Monsanto.”

Dean smiled softly. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

It was far too easy to fall into an almost comfortable silence with Dean. Despite the way they’d parted the other night, something thick and dangerous was growing in between them.

Though, it occurred to Castiel, Dean could do this all the time. Not necessarily with grant recipients—he did seem genuinely surprised to see Castiel again—but he probably had a conquest in every town. Did he wine and dine them, too? Was he the latest in a long line?

Despite himself, Castiel shivered.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.”

When the waiter left the check Castiel had hardly reached for his wallet to offer cash to split the bill when Dean laid down a shiny platinum credit card.

“You don’t have to do that,” Castiel protested.

“I suggested dinner, I picked the restaurant, I’m going to pay.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s polite.”

“I insist on paying half.”

“Thanks, but I got it.”

“Dean, this isn’t a date!”

The waiter froze with the check and Dean’s card in his hand. Castiel glared, willing his body to melt into the floor and disappear. After a moment, Dean subtly waved the waiter off before turning back to Castiel.

“Nobody said anything about a date,” Dean said, an eyebrow raised. “ _You_ said something about a date.”

“Well, forgive me if I can’t help but remember that the man sitting across from me had his dick in my ass not thirty-six hours ago,” Castiel hissed.

“ _Ahem_.”

The waiter slid Dean’s credit card across the table. He made eye contact with Castiel, whose mortification froze him in place, before the waiter mouthed what was unmistakably _good for you!_ and walked away. Castiel excused himself from the table as gracefully as he could, keenly aware of Dean following him.

Castiel pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to get the Uber app up before Dean could catch up, but of course Dean was quicker.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Dean said, gesturing to a town car with deeply tinted windows waiting by the curb.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Castiel replied.

“Please,” Dean said.

The skies opened and a light rain began to fall. Castiel flinched at the droplets, squinting hard at Dean’s open face and wide eyes before sighing. “Fine.”

Dean’s car was warm and quiet as they both slid into the backseat. Castiel gave Dean his address, and Dean leaned forward to give it to the driver. When he sat back, he was gazing at Castiel again. That strange electricity buzzed under Castiel’s skin as he watched. Slowly, Dean’s hand worked its way across the seat and grasped Castiel’s

Castiel frowned down at their hands. “Dean, what are we doing here?” Dean shook his head.

“I don’t know, but I know that whatever it is, I don’t want to let it go.”

Castiel rubbed the back of his free hand across his eyes. “This is a very bad idea.”

“Hey,” Dean said, squeezing Castiel’s hand gently. “This won’t go anywhere you don’t want it to.”

“Dean . . .”

When Dean leaned in to kiss him, it was soft to the point of aching. Castiel’s heart hammered against his ribs as Dean’s fingers trailed lightly over Castiel’s jaw. The kiss was a balm, a sigh, easing the tightness in Castiel’s chest that he didn’t even realize was there.

By the time the town car pulled up to Castiel’s apartment, his lips were swollen from kisses, hands tangled together with Dean’s.

“Come up,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s lips.

“I thought you said I shouldn’t,” Dean said.

“Fuck that,” Castiel said, kissing him again. “Come up.”

Castiel’s apartment was nowhere near as opulent as the hotel where Dean was staying, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care that he hadn’t done the dishes, nor picked up the living room as he pulled Dean inside and over to the couch. Dean pushed him back onto the cushions gently before climbing into his lap, kissing him soundly. Castiel groaned as his hands found their way to Dean’s ass, grabbing hold tightly as Dean writhed on top of him.

“Holy shit, Cas, what are you doing to me?” Dean muttered against Castiel’s lips when they came up for air.

Castiel was spared having to answer the question as Dean slid to the floor and planted himself between Castiel’s knees, hands stroking his inner thighs. Dean licked his lips as he eyed the prominent bulge in Castiel’s pants.

“I’m not wearing anything special tonight,” Castiel muttered. Dean shook his head.

“Don’t care,” he replied, reaching up and making quick work of Castiel’s zipper. Castiel hissed in a sharp breath as Dean pulled him free of his boxer briefs, aching cock twitching in the cool air. Dean chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. “Condom?”

“Bed—bedroom,” Castiel hissed as Dean wrapped a large, callused hand around him.

“Don’t know if I can wait,” Dean murmured before placing a soft kiss on the head of Castiel’s cock. A low whine eased its way out of Castiel, arousal fogging his brain. “Show me where?”

Where . . . what did Dean mean, where? “Anywhere,” Castiel managed. Dean chuckled, resting his forehead against Castiel’s thigh.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Dean clarified.

“Oh.” Castiel blinked a few times to clear his head. Right, condoms. “I’ll take you.”

Castiel awkwardly hitched his pants up around his waist as he stood to guide Dean to his room. He flipped the light on, hoping he’d managed to clean up his dirty clothes at least, then bent over his side table to rummage in the drawer.

“They’re here somewhere . . .” he began before Dean’s large hands landed on his hips, the evidence of Dean’s arousal grinding against the meat of Castiel’s ass.

“Gonna take me to bed, Cas?” Dean asked, snaking an arm around Castiel’s waist. Castiel sighed, letting his head drop back against Dean’s shoulder.

“Not without this,” Castiel said, holding a bright blue condom in its foil wrapper up between his middle and forefinger.

“Flavored?” Dean asked, mirth in his voice.

“Blue raspberry.”

“Awesome.”

Dean turned Castiel gently around and made quick work of his clothes, and before Castiel knew it he was spread out on his bed with Dean still clothed between his knees. Dean expertly rolled the condom on to Castiel’s over-sensitive length before finally, blissfully, wrapping his plump lips around Castiel’s cock and sucking him in earnest.

“Oh, fuck, _Dean_ ,” Castiel managed, hands gripping tightly to his sheets to refrain from gripping Dean’s hair. Heat rushed through him as he watched Dean sink down and then slowly pull back, cheeks hollowed, the ridiculous blue raspberry condom (part of a gag gift set provided by Balthazar at last year’s Pride Fest) making it look like he was sucking on a popsicle. Castiel might have laughed if he wasn’t too busy getting his brain sucked out through his dick.

Dean was mesmerizing, but in the end the warm, wet sensation of Dean’s talented mouth had Castiel falling back against his pillows, hips writhing beneath him. Dean eased the fingers of one hand back toward his sensitive hole, brushing dryly against it and making Castiel buck up into Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned around Castiel’s cock and Castiel couldn’t help it; he jolted at the shock, one hand burying itself in Dean’s hair, just enough to hold on for dear life.

“Dean—I’m close—” was all the warning Castiel managed to give before he was coming hard into the condom, thighs shaking over Dean’s shoulders. Dean’s vicious mouth turned gentle, lapping at Castiel through the aftershocks. As he started to soften, Dean pulled back and removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the direction of Castiel’s trash can. He smirked at Castiel before moving up to kiss him, deep and probing, while post-orgasmic lethargy started to set in to Castiel’s limbs. After a long moment, Dean pulled back to look into Castiel’s eyes, and Castiel couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Dean asked quietly.

“Blue raspberry,” Castiel replied with a smirk. Dean chuckled.

“And whose fault is that?”

“My best friend Balthazar, but I would really rather not talk about him right now. Let me return the favor . . .” Castiel reached for Dean’s pants but came up short at the large wet spot there. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged.

“Hard to keep my hands to myself when you’re makin’ those noises for me,” Dean explained. Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean gave him another peck on the lips before collapsing on his back on the other side of the bed. “Early day tomorrow.”

Castiel looked over at him, somehow still dressed, a strange tension in his limbs. He didn’t want to think too deeply about what possessed him to say: “Stay.”

Dean turned his head to meet his eyes. “Early day tomorrow,” he repeated, as though that were any kind of excuse. Castiel stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher whatever was going on behind those stunningly green eyes.

“So, _stay_.”

Another eternity passed in silence, so long ice began to creep through the warm calm in Castiel’s veins, before Dean smiled softly and said, “Okay.”

Castiel stood and went to his dresser. “I’m afraid my pajamas may not fit you, but I have some boxers that might work,” he said, tossing them to Dean who had moved to undress. Castiel watched the taught muscles of Dean’s back move, a thrill running through him at the thought of getting to rake his nails down that as Dean fucked him into the mattress in the morning, before he dressed himself in his pajamas. Dean slid under the covers, shirtless and wearing Castiel’s boxers, and Castiel watched him settle in like a punch to his solar plexus. Dean blinked at him blithely from beneath his sheets.

“You coming?” Dean asked. Castiel quirked a brow.

“I thought I already did.”

Dean laughed, and as Castiel climbed into bed next to him, he shifted over a bit, just enough that it seemed like an invitation. Castiel turned off the lamp and scooted over to rest his head on Dean’s chest.

For a long time Castiel lay in the dark listening to Dean breathing, mind racing and staving off sleep. Whatever was going on here was enough to rattle Castiel’s carefully built foundations to the core.

He could only hope that Dean might be starting to feel the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel woke all at once to a pair of warm arms wrapped around his chest, Dean solid against his back. A glance at his phone showed that it was still half an hour until his alarm, but something about waking up next to Dean energized him. He turned around to place a soft kiss on Dean’s pouted lips. Dean shifted a little, scrunching up his nose against the light touch. Castiel smiled and extricated himself from the sheets to pad out to the kitchen.

As he threw together coffee and some bacon and eggs, a couple of texts came through from Balthazar, Charlie, and Hannah, wishing him luck with the presentation later. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as the logistics of arriving to work ran through his head, but he pushed them away in favor of relishing the feeling of waking up in Dean’s arms. Maybe it had simply been too long since he’d gotten laid, just like Balthazar said, but the strange rushing feeling coursing through him as he thought about Dean in his bed was not something he would have expected following a one (now two) night stand.

Thankfully, he was saved the opportunity to brood on it by the sound of Dean shuffling to the bathroom. By the time Dean emerged, Castiel was plating two heaping piles of scrambled eggs and a large stack of bacon on the counter.

“Mmm, smells good,” Dean murmured against the back of Castiel’s neck as he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s middle from behind. The corners of Castiel’s lips turned up as he leaned back into the touch. He ran his hands over the lean muscles in Dean’s forearms, raking his fingernails gently over the soft skin he found there. Dean hummed appreciatively, nuzzling at the sensitive spot behind Castiel’s ear, setting the butterflies off again.

“I hope you like scrambled,” Castiel said, lifting the full plates in offering. Dean left a soft kiss on the shell of Castiel’s ear before moving back enough to let Castiel move toward the breakfast nook. “Coffee’s in the pot, and I have milk and sugar if you want it.”

“Black is fine,” Dean replied. Castiel placed the food on the table before turning to get his own coffee and practically ran into Dean with two steaming mugs in his hands. Dean smiled sheepishly. “Coffee?”

Castiel took the mug gratefully, doctoring it with a heaping spoon of sugar as they sat down to tuck into breakfast.

The soft golden light of dawn filtered through the linen shades, casting Dean in an otherworldly glow as he set into the food with gusto. 

“I wasn’t sure how we should go about getting in to work today,” Castiel began, hoping his apprehension didn’t show in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean replied around a mouthful of bacon. “Called the car. Should be here in about twenty.”

“Oh.”

Dean grinned, cheeks endearingly full like a squirrel. “Think your shower could fit two?”

Castiel ignored the chill creeping into the fuzzy warm feeling from earlier and managed a small smile. “Perhaps.”

The shower had been perfunctory, though they couldn’t entirely keep their hands to themselves, and Castiel tried to console himself with the quick peck Dean gave him before dashing through the door when his car arrived. It didn’t matter what Dean was thinking, it was sensible to take separate cars to work. Besides, Castiel needed to do the final preparations for his presentation later.

Hannah was already setting things up in the conference room when he arrived, and they smiled gratefully at him when he handed them their favorite coffee from the student center café.

“You’re going to do great, Cas,” they said, patting Castiel’s arm encouragingly as he organized his notes behind the podium.

“Thank you,” Castiel acknowledged, taking a deep breath. He watched through the large windows as Naomi led the grant committee down the hallway, a large, fake smile plastered on her face as she showed them into the conference room.

“Dr. Novak, nice to see you again,” Sam Winchester said, reaching out to shake Castiel’s hand. His grip was firm, enough so that Castiel had to suppress the urge to shake his hand out when he finally let go.

“Dr. Novak,” purred Rowena MacLeod, making Castiel blush.

“Can’t wait to see what you’ve got!” Donna Hanscum effused, settling into a chair between Sam and Rowena.

“Novak.”

Castiel swallowed as he reached out to shake Dean’s hand. The smirk on Dean’s face might not have been noticeable to anyone else, but Castiel clenched his jaw in response.

“Mr. Winchester,” he replied curtly. He might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn Dean winked before walking away. Castiel tried not to read anything into the significant glance Sam gave his brother as he sat down at the table.

“Well, Dr. Novak, I think it’s time we got started,” Naomi said brusquely, clearly disapproving. 

“Of course.” Castiel cleared his throat and pressed the button on the control panel to dim the lights and bring up his power point presentation.

Most of the presentation he’d reused from his original proposal, though he’d enhanced the section on community impact and logistical clearances now that the project was more actual rather than theoretical. He lost himself in talking about his passion project, the work he’d spent the last five years getting to a place he could launch it into the world. And really, the presentation was a formality; the committee couldn’t revoke the grant that was already awarded, though the question and answer session could shape the implementation, and Castiel wanted his version to be the one that was made reality.

When he finished, he turned to look at the committee, blinking against the lights as he focused on their faces. Donna was smiling broadly, clearly enthusiastic, and Dean, Castiel realized with a jolt of pride, looked particularly impressed. Sam’s face was thoughtful, Rowena’s inscrutable, and he took a deep breath before asking, “Any questions?”

“You said you modeled your initial plans on existing urban co-ops,” Sam said at once. “Are they aware of your project?”

“Yes, there are a few groups that have started co-ops like these in the region that I am in contact with. I have a list of their names and contact information in the packet.”

“Do any of them incorporate beehives like yours?”

“Some, but the kind of safety regulations needed to keep urban bees can be cost-prohibitive for many similar projects. The bulk of my research will be focused on the effect of bees on production and the possible effect on surrounding agricultural endeavors.”

“Lot of Monsanto farms around here,” Donna interjected. Castiel nodded to her.

“You said it, not me,” he replied with a small smile.

“So, do you have the clearance to continue research on the large industrial farms?”

Castiel frowned at Sam’s follow-up question. “Not yet, but that is a proposed late phase in the project, and isn’t central to the main concerns—”

“Sure, but the project isn’t exactly novel—”

“Novel wasn’t the point, Sam. We picked Cas’s project because it’s good, and it’s gonna help a lot of people,” Dean interjected.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have an obligation to protect our interests here.”

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about. It’s a great idea and we’re all set to move ahead, right?”

Castiel’s heart was thumping in his ears by the time Rowena cleared her throat gently, laying a hand on Sam’s knee. “Gentlemen, I think that Samuel raises valid concerns—”

Dean sputtered indignantly.

“ _However_ , Dean is right. We selected _Dr. Novak’s_ project knowing that the idea was not particularly novel.” Rowena gave Dean a stern look before turning to face Castiel. “I believe that any further concerns may be resolved via email, don’t you?”

“Um, I—”

“Good! That’s settled. Now, who is going to escort me to that charming bistro Dr. Milton spoke so highly of yesterday?”

The committee rose and left the room, leaving Castiel with a smile and a wave, and feeling a little bit blindsided. Dean gave him one last glance before following the others through the door.

“Well, at least it wasn’t a complete disaster,” Naomi said, startling Castiel from his thoughts. “Make sure you don’t make an ass of yourself at the reception, and I think we’ll be in business.”

Twenty minutes later Castiel slid into a booth across from Charlie at the Roadhouse and ordered a bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon.

“Long day?” Charlie asked, quirking her eyebrow at the added bacon.

“I . . . I’m not sure,” Castiel admitted. The way Dean had jumped to his defense this morning, the warm feeling he had waking up in his arms, and the mixed signals at their parting after breakfast all swirled through Castiel’s brain.

Charlie considered him for a moment but was halted from speaking as Balthazar and Hannah joined their group.

“How was the meeting?” Hannah asked, their brow knitted in concern.

“It was fine,” Castiel reassured them. “They’re very kind.”

“Enough shop talk,” Balthazar said with a wave of his hand. “I’d rather hear about—”

“This seat taken?”

Castiel blinked up and looked into the eyes of the last person he’d expected to see.

“Of course it isn’t,” Balthazar said before Castiel could react. “What’s your name, tall, handsome stranger?”

“Dean.”

Castiel glanced over at Charlie who somehow managed to keep her face neutral as several pieces clicked into place.

“Dean is—” Castiel began, but Dean cut him off.

“A friend of Castiel’s. We met last week.”

All three of Castiel’s friends turned their gazes on him. It would have been comical, except Castiel’s palms were starting to sweat.

“Yes, at the luncheon. The reception for Dr. Hess’s retirement.”

Balthazar looked back at Dean with interest. “Oh, are you a member of the English department faculty?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Castiel who willed him to play along with every fiber of his being. “Uh, no. I’m in town on business. Dr. Hess is a, uh . . . old family friend.”

Charlie’s gaze was boring holes into the side of Castiel’s head, but he couldn’t risk glancing over at her. Dean, meanwhile, was grinning broadly and looking everywhere _except_ at Castiel. He and Balthazar were chatting animatedly about something Castiel couldn’t hear over the whirring of his brain. Before he knew it, Balthazar was gesturing at an empty chair and Dean was pulling up a seat.

“I can’t stay long, got a meeting later, but I stopped in here for a burger and saw Cas from across the room and couldn’t leave without saying hello,” Dean said, finally turning his smile to Castiel. There was a subtle question in his eyes, a softening of the crinkles in the corners, and Castiel breathed a little easier. Dean knew better than to say anything, even to his group of friends.

Charlie, meanwhile, was vibrating at a high frequency in her chair beside him.

It would’ve made things a lot simpler if Dean hadn’t fit in so well with his friends, but for fifteen minutes Dean sat and chatted with Hannah and Balthazar, leaving everyone laughing, and Castiel felt the butterflies rising up in his stomach again. He wanted to see more of Dean, which was . . . problematic, to say the least.

True, Chicago wasn’t too far away, but still . . . it hadn’t even been a week yet.

“See you later, Cas?”

Castiel blinked back to awareness, four sets of eyes on him. He glanced around dazedly, finally settling on Dean, who was standing behind his chair.

“Um, yes?” Castiel replied uncertainly. Dean smiled, those lovely crinkles showing next to his eyes again before he waved farewell and left.

“Well, he’s certainly delicious,” Balthazar said with a leer. Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“Not now, Balthazar.”

“I’m not allowed to have eyes? Castiel, if you haven’t hit that yet, you should. We all know what a terrible failure you were at the online dating adventure. Men like that don’t need the help of an app to find what they’re looking for.”

“Baz, thank you for your colorful commentary,” Hannah said, effectively ending the conversation.

Lunch mercifully ended soon after that, but as he was trying to escape back to his office, Charlie snaked an arm around his elbow and leaned into his shoulder. “Spill.”

Castiel sighed. “There’s nothing to spill.”

“Wrong. There’s something you’re not telling me, which isn’t fair, because as your queen you owe me your secrets.”

“You do realize the ‘queen’ excuse doesn’t work in the real world.”

Charlie turned her eyes up at him and raised an eyebrow. “I’m invoking queer bestie privileges.”

“Technically speaking, Baz and Hannah are queer as well—”

“Castiel James Novak.”

Castiel let out a long, deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face as Charlie stopped and faced him. “He came over last night,” Castiel admitted into his palm.

“Last _night_?! So, he had to do the walk of shame?” Castiel shook his head. “He spent the night? Cas, have you ever had anyone spend the night in your apartment?”

Castiel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You haven’t since I’ve known you!”

The fluttering in his chest kicked up a notch. “It’s just sex,” he managed.

Charlie pursed her lips, then checked around them before pulling Castiel into an alcove. “Listen, if that’s all it is, and you’re cool with it, then I’m cool with it. I will leave you alone and let you do your thing. But . . . Cas, I haven’t seen you look at somebody like you looked at him at lunch in a very long time. Maybe ever.”

Castiel stood stock still. “I know.”

Charlie stared at him for another moment before gently punching his shoulder. “Come on, you’ve got a grant committee to schmooze.”

Castiel followed her back toward campus, mind going a million miles a minute. After a long walk in silence, Charlie parted ways with Castiel near his office, but as she turned to go Castiel stopped her. “Wait, Charlie.”

“Yeah?”

He took a deep breath before managing, “What about the way he looks at me?”

Charlie beamed. “Haven’t seen that in a long time, either. Later, Cas!”

As he made his way back to his office, Castiel couldn’t help but smile despite himself. Last night and that morning had been incredible, if he let himself be honest, and he wouldn’t mind doing that again, even if Dean were leaving in a few days. In fact, he was starting to regret not getting Dean’s phone number when he unlocked his office and opened the door.

“Hey, handsome.”

Castiel practically jumped out of his skin as he looked up from his phone and hastily shut the door behind him. “Dean!” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Dean was reclining in Castiel’s office chair, feet propped up on the corner of the desk, a lazy grin on his face. “I have the afternoon off, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Like you surprised me at lunch?” Castiel demanded. Dean’s smile faltered and he took his feet down from the desk.

“Sorry, I really didn’t know you’d be there. I heard the Roadhouse was the best place in town for a burger, and I was on my own for lunch today.”

“You didn’t want to go back to Kale?”

Dean laughed a little bitterly. “Uh, I would’ve, but me and Sammy kind of had a little disagreement earlier and it was better to let Rowena talk him down.”

Castiel frowned. “Did it have to do with my project?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“Dean, I don’t want to come between you and your brother—"

“You didn’t,” Dean said, standing up and coming out from behind the desk. “Your project is perfect; he doesn’t need to poke holes in it.”

“My project is far from perfect, and I actually appreciate the feedback and input your brother has.”

“He doesn’t have to be an ass about it.”

“On the contrary, he was being perfectly polite.”

Dean’s hands found their way to Castiel’s waist and pulled him in as he crowded into Castiel’s space. “Maybe I just don’t like hearing brilliant work criticized,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s lips. Castiel’s heart hammered in his ears.

“Perhaps, but for the good of the project—” Castiel’s argument was cut off as Dean pressed their lips firmly together in a dominating kiss. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck immediately as Dean slid his hands around to pull Castiel closer by the small of his back.

Thankfully, Castiel’s office didn’t have windows facing the main office beyond, but he was hardly thinking about that as Dean tugged his shirt out of his waistband to splay his large hands on the skin underneath. Castiel shivered as Dean kissed his way along his jaw, dragging his lips over the stubble he found there.

“Dean . . .” Castiel sighed, threading his fingers into Dean’s hair and tugging him back to his lips. Dean kissed single-mindedly, with a focus Castiel envied. Even now, with the sensation of Dean’s big hands on his skin, he still couldn’t keep the noise of the outer office or the light streaming in from the exterior window from his mind. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“Please, Dr. Novak, I’ll do anything to pass your class . . .”

Castiel choked. “Words cannot express how unsexy that is.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll make it up to you.” He worked both hands under the waistband of Castiel’s pants to get two handfuls of his ass, grinding against him and pulling a groan from Castiel.

“Fuck, you feel . . .”

“So do you, sweetheart,” Dean breathed, sucking lightly at the pulse point in Castiel’s throat. Castiel pushed him back gently.

“No marks,” he reminded Dean, reaching up to loosen his own tie. Dean’s green eyes tracked Castiel’s hands hungrily, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

“One day I’m gonna get my mouth all over you, leave marks where everybody can see,” Dean murmured as he watched Castiel slide the tie out from under his collar. Castiel swallowed hard at the scrutiny, moving trembling hands up to undo the buttons. Dean laid his hands gently over Castiel’s, pressing soft kisses to his fingers, gazing up into Castiel’s eyes from under long, lush lashes. This close, Castiel could count each freckle, and god help him, he wanted to spend hours doing just that. Words ached to tumble out of his mouth, and he wasn’t even sure what they would say.

“Dean—” 

_ Bam, bam, bam! _

Castiel jumped away from the door as someone hammered against it, practically tripping over Dean as he scrambled further into his office.

“Dr. Novak are you in?” Hael shouted. Castiel desperately buttoned the two he’d managed to get undone before frantically searching for his tie.

“I’m here!” Castiel called back, lunging for the knob to make sure it was locked before Hael could try to come in. He scrabbled on the floor for his tie, finally finding it dangling in front of his face from Dean’s fingers. Dean was watching him with a vaguely bemused expression on his face. Castiel snatched it and rushed through tying it around his neck.

“Dr. Milton wants to meet with you about the grant, when you’re free,” Hael said after she’d rattled the doorknob. 

“Fine!” Castiel called, tightening the knot around his neck.

Hael’s footsteps faded away and Castiel finally took a deep breath. Dean laid a steady hand on his shoulder, turning Castiel back to face him.

“Dean, you have to—how did you even get in here? Did anybody see you?”

“Relax,” Dean said, tugging on Castiel’s tie. Castiel batted ineffectually at Dean’s wrists as he fussed with the knot. “I’m pretty good at getting in and out of places when I don’t want to be seen.” With a final adjustment, he brushed Castiel’s tie flat. “It was backwards,” he said with a small smile. Castiel smiled tightly back.

“Thank you.”

Dean reached up to brush his thumb across Castiel’s cheekbone, and Castiel couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch. “When can I see you again?” Dean asked.

“I’ll see you at the reception tomorrow.”

Something unreadable flashed behind Dean’s eyes, but then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “Okay. Can’t wait to see you in a tux in person.”

Castiel ran his hands through his hair and made sure his tie was straight before turning away and leaving Dean behind.

He worked hard to ignore the heavy feeling in his heart.

“Here.”

Hannah reached up and straightened Castiel’s tie, adjusting the bowtie so it was straight. Castiel tugged at his cuffs, not always comfortable in formalwear. Even though his profession necessitated it, it wasn’t his favorite thing to wear.

“You look great,” Hannah added before handing Castiel a short stack of notecards.

“Public speaking. My favorite thing.”

Hannah scoffed and brushed lint from the front of Castiel’s jacket. “It’s a short acknowledgement speech. You won’t be onstage for more than five minutes.”

“An eternity.” Castiel fidgeted with his hair nervously before Hannah rolled their eyes and straightened that, too. “Thank you, Hannah,” Castiel added. Hannah smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

The reception was held in the alumni hall, professionally lit and catered with a small dance floor in the center in front of the stage. Castiel ignored the platform to stop himself from getting too nervous already. Seating was assigned, so Castiel found his way to a table near the front with Naomi, the dean of the college, and the grant committee. He was, of course, early, so there wasn’t anyone else at his table yet. He hovered near his chair, not sure if he should sit down or not yet. Across the room he spotted the dean and Naomi talking to a few major donors, but no sign of the grant committee.

“Well, isn’t this a splendid party!”

Castiel smiled politely as Sam and Rowena approached the table, shaking their hands. Sam pulled Rowena’s chair out for her, and Castiel waited until Rowena was settled, then took his own seat only to hesitate when Donna approached.

“No, no, don’t get up!” Donna said, cheerfully dropping down into a chair.

Castiel fell into polite conversation with Donna, trying to keep his eyes from darting around the room.

“—waiting for someone, hon?”

“. . . sorry?”

Donna smiled at him, a glint in her eyes. “Well, you keep glancing to that door like that and your eyes are gonna pop out of your head.”

Castiel blushed, opening his mouth to come up with some excuse, but then a tall, broad figure appeared behind Donna’s chair.

“Oh, good, they didn’t start dinner yet,” Dean exclaimed, patting Donna on the shoulder before sliding into his seat next to her.

“Cas, good to see you,” Dean said with a grin.

“And you,” Castiel said stiffly, inclining his head.

He was saved from further conversation by the arrival of the food, which was well-catered and serviceable, and was absorbing enough that Castiel managed to focus most of his attention on his plate instead of the company. He kept one ear on the conversation between Rowena and Naomi, turning away from where he could feel Dean’s eyes on him for half of the dinner.

After they ate, it was time for his speech, which he managed to give without too much stumbling, and then, finally, they opened the dance floor. There was nice, stately jazz and classical music that encouraged a few people to move onto the floor and show ballroom moves. Castiel edged his way around the floor to make it back to his table. He couldn’t see Dean from there, but that didn’t mean he’d left. Perhaps he was in the restroom, or—

“So, do you think a member of the grant committee could have a dance with the guy who tonight is all about?”

Castiel turned to smile tightly at Dean. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Maybe not. Should that stop us?” Dean was smiling, but his eyes looked nervous. There was something so vulnerable in his eyes that Castiel couldn’t help himself.

“Perhaps one dance wouldn’t hurt.”

Dean’s entire face lit up in an enormous grin. Castiel felt his own smile widen watching it, his heart leaping up into his throat. Dean offered his hand, leading Castiel out onto the floor.

A slow, smooth song played while Dean placed a hand on his waist. Castiel shivered, the warmth of Dean’s hand bleeding through his jacket and soaking into his skin. The last time those hands were on him, they’d nearly fucked up against his office door. The sense memory of Dean’s hands sent a flush running through him. Dean took a deep, shuddering breath against him as they swayed.

“I missed you,” Dean said quietly.

“It was only a day,” Castiel replied.

“Yeah, but, uh . . . you’re kinda in my head. Couldn’t shake thoughts of you last night. Wanted to text you, but I didn’t have your number.”

Castiel sighed. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Dean moved back to look him in the eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

Castiel chewed on his lips before shaking his head minutely. Dean let out a shaky breath. “Good.” They danced slowly for another moment before Dean said, “I know it’s crazy, but this thing with us . . . I’m not getting any younger, and what we’ve been doing . . . Cas, I’m not ready to lose that. I think we really have something special.”

Castiel’s stomach sunk slowly to his feet. “What do you mean?”

“I want to exchange numbers, for one,” Dean murmured next to his ear. “I don’t want to lose touch. And maybe, if you’re in Chicago, or if I ever get back here . . . Maybe we pick up where we left off?”

Ice dropped into Castiel’s veins. “You want to . . . continue this?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. I’ve had a really great time with you. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, putting a slight distance between them. “It’s been nice, Dean, but . . .”

Dean’s grip tightened on Castiel’s hand. “You still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I think you’re an amazing man, but my work . . . my work is my life. I can’t drop it all because of one week of good sex.”

“Cas, I—look, I know this is complicated, but you gotta . . . this isn’t something I want to just throw away.”

Castiel blinked in surprise, dread closing its fist in his gut. “It’s just sex.”

The music stopped, and Dean stopped with it. “Just sex.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Castiel hissed in relief. “Dean—"

The last of Castiel’s disappointment set in as Dean’s jaw tightened. “Sure. I completely understand.” Dean moved back from Castiel. “Look me up if you’re ever in Chicago, yeah?”

Something felt off, but Castiel tamped down on his feelings and nodded. “Of course. I—thank you, Dean.”

“See you around, Cas.”

Dean walked away and Castiel couldn’t help the sudden thought it might be the last he ever saw of him. The party had suddenly lost its appeal. Castiel managed to stop by to thank Rowena, Sam, and Donna again, but didn’t want to linger. Hannah caught his eye as he walked by, but he shook his head at them minutely.

It had been a whirlwind week, but that was all. The world would be right again by Monday.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Three months later _

It was snowing in Chicago, because of course it was. The airport had been packed with pre-holiday travelers, and all Castiel wanted to do was check into his hotel room and collapse. Unfortunately, because of a delay that made his quick flight to Chicago longer than the trip would have been by car, and the fact that he was expected at the Campbell Foundation headquarters in just two short hours, he didn’t have the time. The cab ride from the airport was hampered by the falling snow, so by the time he made it to the hotel he had was just able to dump his suitcase in the room and dash back out. He managed to make it to the headquarters downtown just before three.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the bored-looking receptionist on the ground floor. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Three o’clock. Dr. Novak?”

“Castiel!”

Castiel glanced up to see Donna’s sunny, smiling face from across the atrium, and couldn’t help smiling back. “Hello, Donna.”

Donna bustled over close enough to the desk to say, “I’ll take it from here, Kevin!” and then waved Castiel over to the shiny chrome elevators. “So, how ya been?”

“I’ve been well. Busy. I think you’ll be pleased with the changes I’ve made—”

“I’m sure we’re gonna love it! You’ve got a real talent for organization, and the science is strong. You’ve got this, honey!”

Castiel tried to take comfort in her words, but the higher the elevator climbed, the sweatier Castiel’s palms became. He took a deep breath and worked on centering his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous; he’d been in close email contact with the committee as he reworked the final details of realizing his urban farming project, the final zoning permits were complete, and all it required was a final set of signatures and the real work could begin.

“This way, hon,” Donna said as they left the elevator on the top floor. A long, well-lit hallway led between glass-walled offices, some dark inside, others brightly lit and glowing behind frosted glass. Castiel concentrated on watching the back of Donna’s head as she led him to the end of the hall and opened the door onto a large, window-lined conference room. She smiled at him broadly and gestured inside. Castiel nodded at her as he made his way inside, heart starting to thud in his chest.

“Castiel!”

The committee was already waiting, and Rowena was the first to greet him with a smile and her lovely brogue. She made her way over and kissed Castiel on both cheeks. Sam came up behind her, smiling as he shook Castiel’s hand, resting his other on Rowena’s shoulder. “Good to see you,” Sam said.

“Likewise,” Castiel replied, letting his gaze and hand linger for a moment before finally gathering the courage to look across the room.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about Dean in the last few months. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about re-activating his Grindr account just so he could stare at Dean’s profile picture during lonely evening hours in his empty apartment. And it certainly wasn’t as though he’d hadn’t thought about connecting with Dean via his Linked-In profile or adding him as a friend on Facebook. Something always held him back. A clean break would be best.

The clean break hadn’t prepared him for this moment.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean was as gorgeous as ever, in a well-tailored light grey suit and maroon tie, his scruff a little long over his well-defined chin. It might have been the lighting, but Castiel thought his eyes looked a little dull, with dark purple smudges shadowed under them. The corner of Dean’s mouth turned up in a slight smile.

“Good to see you,” Dean said flatly. A pit opened in Castiel’s stomach.

“You as well,” Castiel replied.

“Do we have the paperwork?” Rowena asked archly as the moment stretched on.

“Alfie laid it out this morning,” Sam said, and Castiel managed to look away from Dean to find the table set with rows of papers in neat stacks.

“Perhaps we should begin, then.”

In the end, they didn’t ask to see any more of Castiel’s re-worked proposal. It wasn’t unexpected; they’d signed off as a group via emails just a few weeks ago, but he’d come prepared just in case.

“As you can see, President Campbell has already signed off on the contracts, which means we just need to get your signature here, and here . . . then a couple of initials and we’re good to go!” Donna chirped. Castiel signed where she indicated, then passed the papers along to Sam who did the same, followed by the rest of the committee. When they were done, Donna compiled them with a flourish and handed them to a young man that was waiting by the door. “Triple copies, Alfie, there ya go!”

“Congratulations, Castiel!” Sam said, shaking his hand again. Castiel couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m excited to get started.”

“Well, keep us up to date, otherwise we’ll be down in March for the groundbreaking ceremony!” Sam replied. “Do you think you’ll be in Chicago long?”

Castiel glanced over at Dean, who stood in the corner staring at the snow falling outside the windows. “I’m not sure yet. I have a flight home in a couple of days, but if the weather breaks, I might change it to take advantage of the window.”

Sam’s face went through several minute expression changes before settling on another kind smile. “Let me know if you need anyone to show you around. Or, um . . . well, stay in touch.”

Castiel shook Sam’s outstretched hand again. “I will.”

“Yes, do stay in touch dearie,” Rowena added, extending her own hand. Castiel shook it, a little uneasy under her unsettling gaze.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Donna called as she followed the other two out of the door. “I’ll let Dean show you out, okay?”

With that, Castiel became acutely aware that he was alone with Dean in the middle of a giant fishbowl. He busied himself with the clasps on his briefcase as he waited for Dean to say anything, but again the long silence stretched on until Castiel couldn’t take it anymore.

“How are you, Dean?”

Dean looked over at him then, an oddly blank look on his face. “I’m fine. You?”

“Well enough.”

Ice crept into Castiel’s veins as the quiet got longer and longer. He’d been right to cut off contact, then. Whatever had felt like it was building between them those months ago was clearly no longer at play. He took a deep breath and decided that was it, and let it go.

“Thank you for everything,” Castiel said, turning to go.

“Wait, let me escort you—”

“You don’t have to do that,” Castiel said. “I can find my way to an elevator.”

“Cas, I just wanted to say—”

“Dean.” Dean stopped in his tracks. “I think we’re done here. Thank you, but I’ll be fine on my own. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

With that, Castiel turned and walked out of the door, leaving Dean behind him. Everything was going to be fine; he’d lived this long without having a partner in his life, surely he would go on living without one. A clean break. 

“Oh my, you’re in a hurry.”

Castiel came up short as he passed one of the lit-up offices. Rowena was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She looked beautiful and formidable in her clearly high-end suit and high heels so pointed in the toe and the heel that they looked like weapons. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, just thought . . . I was just headed out.”

“And where is our darling hero to show you the way?”

Castiel swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat. “I can find my own way.”

“Of course you can,” Rowena lilted. “But you shouldn’t have to. Come, tweetie pie, I’ll make sure nothing terrible happens to you.”

Castiel followed awkwardly behind as Rowena led him to the executive elevator at the other end of the hall. This one would take them straight to the ground floor without having to stop at each level to let other passengers on. The doors opened smoothly and silently, the clacking of Rowena’s heels echoing off the paneled walls inside. The doors slid closed behind them, but after they’d descended a few floors, Rowena reached out and pressed the “stop” button with one eggplant-manicured finger.

“What--?”

“I suppose I could’ve chosen a more delicate way to go about this, but you’re a difficult man to get on your own, Castiel, and after what I saw today, well . . .” Rowena began, her gaze turning stern. “Let me tell you a bit about loving a Winchester.”

Castiel paled. “I’m not—”

“Please, don’t insult my intelligence. I watched you two dance around each other back in Kansas, and then ever since we’ve gotten back the boy has been inconsolable. He’s missed you.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Rowena asked.

“No, of course not, but . . . it’s just . . . what does he have to miss about me? We spent a handful of days together. We never even really got to know each other, and we’re from such different worlds . . .”

“If only you knew someone who had gotten into an ill-advised relationship with a Winchester and lived to see it work out.”

Castiel stared at her. “Do you mean . . . you and Sam?”

“Samuel Senior was less than thrilled that his genius young protégé fell in love with the much older, independent daughter of a rival. Sam took some convincing, but if it’s true love, my dear, you fight for it.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as someone who is sold on the idea of true love.”

Rowena sighed. “What can I say? A Winchester will do that to you.” She pressed the button again, and the elevator resumed its descent. When it reached the bottom and the door opened, Castiel moved to go, but Rowena placed her hand on his arm. “Think about what I’ve said? The boy’s heart is in the right place, but his head is thicker than most.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Rowena.”

“You’re welcome, dearie. I’d say, ‘any time,’ but to be honest all of this mushy love talk gives me indigestion.”

Castiel raised a hand in farewell as the elevator doors closed between them. He picked up his jacket from the coat check and made his way back into the thickly falling snow.

The Campbell Foundation had paid for his flight to Chicago, so Castiel told himself it was like buying his own ticket home when he moved the flight up. There was going to be a break in the weather a day earlier than he’d been scheduled to leave, so he thought he would take advantage of it and make it home a little sooner. The sooner he made it back, the sooner he could start gathering his research assistants and start putting plans into motion. He’d hoped three days in Chicago would give him a chance to see the sights (and if he were hoping it wouldn’t have to be alone, well . . .). He certainly didn’t want any of his siblings to know that he was in town, in case any of them got a strange idea to come and visit. The last he’d heard Gabriel, at least, was still in the area, though he wasn’t sure about Michael or Anna. Still, it wouldn’t be a good idea for his parents to know he was so close without a visit.

The snow stopped falling during the night, leaving a clear, crisp morning and Castiel decided to take advantage of it to visit some of his favorite tourist locations. He spent a couple of hours wandering through the Art Institute, stopping for coffee and an obligatory selfie in front of the Bean just after lunch. After that he was too cold to stay outside any longer, so he went back to his hotel and ordered dinner.

His thoughts buzzed in circles around his head, Rowena’s parting advice stuck on a loop. In the end, though, it didn’t matter because, despite everything, he didn’t have Dean’s phone number, and reaching out through social media felt cheap and disingenuous after all this time apart.

_ Besides _ , he thought with a huff, standing and staring out of the enormous window at the busy street below, _I told him I needed to move on_. His cheeks flared with heat when he remembered the dramatic parting line. Who’s to say that Dean had spent any time thinking about him at all? And why was Castiel so fixated on it? He was a man in his forties, surely he was better about a failed relationship attempt than the fourteen-year-old girls in teenage dramas?

Maybe he should reach out and settle it. Find out what Dean was going to say to him in the conference room. Demand to know why he was so distant. Ask about what Rowena had meant. Before he could stop himself, Castiel pulled his phone out of his pocket, finger hovering over the Campbell Foundation offices contact in his contacts. Without thinking, he punched the button to call and held the phone up to his ear.

“Campbell Foundation, how may I direct your call?” lilted a cheery voice over the line.

“Um . . . Mr. Winchester’s office, please,” Castiel managed.

“One moment.” There was a brief pause, and then another dial tone. Castiel almost hung up except—

“Executive reception, how can I help?”

Castiel startled. “Alfie?”

“Yes?” came the inquisitive response.

“Sorry, I—I’d asked to call Dean . . . Mr. Winchester . . . This is Dr. Castiel Novak.”

“Oh! Well, Becky directs all calls to ‘Mr. Winchester’ up to reception, so that’s why you got me. But, I’m sorry, Dr. Novak, Dean’s left for the day.”

“I see.”

“I could transfer you to his voicemail?”

Castiel chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. “Um . . . all right . . .”

“Connecting you now.”

The phone rang again, just a couple of times, before— “Hello, you’ve reached Dean Winchester. I can’t come to the phone right now, but you know what to do.”

Castiel hung up before the beep. This was . . . he couldn’t . . . it was ridiculous to think that their connection would have lasted. Not to mention, it was still highly inappropriate, but . . . The memory of Dean’s hands on him was still so strong. The look in his eyes when they’d said goodbye that night, like there was a hope that this wouldn’t be the end . . .

A clean break.

Even though it was early, Castiel’s new flight was scheduled to leave O’Hare at eight, so he would need to be up before dawn to catch it. He changed into his pajamas and crawled under the covers, disregarding that it was barely after eight p.m. As he lay in the dark, he allowed himself one last pang of regret over Dean before he pushed those thoughts aside and went back to sleep.

“Flight six-fourteen to Kansas City now boarding.”

Castiel flipped through his phone to find his electronic boarding pass. Against his better judgement, he’d allowed the airline to check his bag at the gate, but since he was heading straight home it would be okay if they didn’t get his bags onto the same flight. He’d deal with lost luggage later. An email from the university popped up as he scrolled, something he could ignore until he was back in Kansas. He’d only managed to get a last-minute seat, so he was, of course, in the very back of coach and would be boarding last. He scrolled idly though his phone while the sounds of the airport buzzed around him. A large group of travelers rushed past, talking loudly and laughing with each other, drowning out the other noise so much he almost missed it.

“Cas!”

Castiel’s gaze shot up from his phone. The terminal was busy, people rushing by, and for a moment he thought he’d imagined it before— “Castiel!”

The crowd parted, and suddenly Castiel saw a suit-clad figure in a nice wool pea coat rushing down the terminal toward him, clearly trying to hurry while not flagging down security.

“Dean?” Castiel managed, his heart climbing into his throat.

“Cas!” Dean cried, spotting him and rushing over. He threw his arms around Castiel immediately, pulling him in to his strong grasp. Castiel couldn’t help but relax into the hold, eyes drifting closed as he hugged back. “God, Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” Castiel burst out into the collar of Dean’s jacket.

“You left. You left and I had so much to say, but, god, I’m stupid, Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Castiel pushed back so he could look at Dean’s face. “How did you get here?”

“Bought a ticket,” Dean said with a shrug. Castiel laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible.”

“Worth it,” Dean said, a tentative smile on his face. “I’m sorry about everything, Cas. About how we left it in the fall, about letting it get into my head when I saw you again . . . Shit, Cas, it took Rowena kicking my ass to tell me what was wrong! It’s not about sex for me, Cas. Don’t get me wrong, it was probably the best sex I’ve ever had, but it’s about _you_.” He licked his lips, eye searching Castiel’s face. “And I know it’s too soon, and I know it’s stupid, but I . . . I’m kinda falling in love with you here and I don’t want to give that up.”

Castiel’s breath left him in a rush. “Dean, that’s . . . that’s ridiculous, it’s idiotic, we’re both old enough to know it doesn’t work that way—”

“And old enough to know that this isn’t something we throw away.”

A lump started to form in Castiel’s throat. “I left,” he said, small and quiet.

“I should’ve stopped you,” Dean breathed. “I should have stopped you.”

Without thinking, Castiel threw his arms around Dean and kissed him hard. He was lost in the familiar press of Dean’s lips against his own until the sound of applause shattered the moment. He pulled back and finally noticed the small crowd around them, but then Dean started laughing and he couldn’t help but join in.

“Where do we go from here?” Castiel asked. Dean reached up to brush gentle fingertips across Castiel’s cheekbone.

“Well, first, I think Kansas,” he said, raising his own phone screen and displaying his boarding pass. Castiel laughed.

“And then?”

Dean kissed him again, softly, cradling his chin before he pulled back again to rest their foreheads together. “Wherever we want.”

Castiel smiled. “Sounds like a plan to me.” 


	5. Chapter 5

_ Six months later _

The sun is warm on the back of Castiel’s neck as he straightens up and dusts his hands off on his jeans. The small test crop of radishes is coming along nicely, next to the box of asparagus they’d cut back just a couple of months ago. With any luck, they would be ready to harvest when the first group of local high school students came in for their volunteer shifts in the fall. He raised a hand to wave at the project’s beekeeper, Mr. Cain, before leaving the test garden. He stomped and brushed as much of the dirt off as possible before he went into the visitors’ center, but he still earned a frown from Hannah at the mess he tracked in.

“You’re going to have to get used to it,” Castiel told them. Hannah sighed and rolled their eyes.

“Tell me why you stuck me in this job again?”

“Because you were the most qualified applicant and wouldn’t stop badgering me for months,” Castiel replied. “Cain’s in the back, make sure he clocks in.”

“Already on it,” Hannah said, waving a completed punch card at him from behind the reception desk. Castiel made his way to his small office in the back of the building where he changed out of his coveralls and boots and back into the chinos and boat shoes he’d been wearing earlier. He waved at Hannah on his way out.

“See you at the party this weekend?” Castiel called.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Hannah shouted back.

Since Castiel’s new place was several miles outside of the city, he had finally caved and bought a car. Against the sage advice of his local car guru he had _indeed_ purchased the bright green Prius, but that was because it got the best gas mileage and was partially electric. If said guru had his way, Castiel would’ve walked off the lot with something much flashier and harder on the environment.

It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

The winding roads outside of town led into a tree-lined private drive with a wrought-iron gate already open for him. He pulled into the driveway and came to a stop next to the prized vehicular possession of his personal car guru gleaming black and chrome next to the large, detached garage. Castiel smiled and shook his head at the monstrosity.

The house was gorgeous, set back from the road and on twenty acres of untouched, rolling prairie. If he squinted into the distance, he could make out a neighbor’s house or two, but it was quiet and secluded. Which was good, because they’d only just moved in and Castiel had found himself walking naked in front of an open window more than once.

It had been a long time since they’d been together for this many consecutive days.

“Dean?” Castiel called as he walked into the mud room entrance. Rock music was drifting softly from somewhere upstairs, so Castiel followed the sound to the second floor, stopping by his office to drop off his briefcase. Everything was still in boxes, but when he was finally unpacked, he’d have a great view from his desk of the sweeping landscape beyond.

The music was emanating from down the hall, where the door to their bedroom stood open. Castiel stood in the doorway and leaned against it, arms across his chest as he watched Dean bop along to the music and dab white paint on the trim around the windows. His adorably flat butt looked even flatter in the loose work jeans he was wearing, but the tight, old t-shirt stretched appealingly across his shoulders. He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his features.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t an excellent dancer, Dean,” Castiel said. Dean, to his credit, hardly missed a beat before turning around and shimmying his way over to Castiel, paintbrush still in hand.

“ _Shook me aallll niiiiight long_!” Dean sang along with the music before planting a sloppy kiss on Castiel’s cheek. He rubbed his mouth hard with the back of his hand. “Ugh, gross, babe, you’re disgusting.”

“I could say the same for you!” Castiel replied, gesturing at the state of Dean’s forehead and clothes, damp with sweat.

“Maybe we should fix that,” Dean countered, setting the brush down and slipping his arms around Castiel’s waist and kissing him deeply on the lips.

“I thought I was gross,” Castiel murmured when Dean pulled back. Dean hummed.

“You’re also irresistible.”

Castiel pushed him back, lips parting with a smacking sound. “No shower sex.”

Dean nodded. “You’re right, it _is_ complicated.”

Ten minutes later Castiel moaned against the cool tile of the shower as Dean slid his cock into him, smooth and slow. He pushed back into Dean, grinding him in even deeper, fingers sliding along the wet wall while Dean gripped his hips and fucked him hard and slow. Soft, fuzzy feelings spread through him as Dean held him close, chest flush to Castiel’s back, laying fluttering kisses over his neck and shoulders as he whispered, “I love you” into Castiel’s skin. Castiel shuddered, reaching back to tangle his hand in Dean’s hair while Dean punched deep, sending shivers down Castiel’s spine.

“So fucking good, sweetheart,” Dean breathed against the shell of Castiel’s ear.

“Fuck me, Dean,” Castiel growled, crying out again when Dean pushed him up against the wall and pounded into him in earnest.

“Come for me, Cas,” Dean commanded, wrapping his large hand around Castiel and jacking him in smooth, firm strokes. With Dean inside him brushing insistently at his prostate and the twist of Dean’s wrist on the upstroke, Castiel let out a long groan as his orgasm crashed over him, coming hard all over the wall. He clenched down on Dean and then he could feel him throb deep in him, pressing himself as far in as he could go as Dean came inside him with a rough, contented sigh. Castiel stood panting for a moment while Dean kissed along his spine, wincing a little as he slipped out.

“See,” Castiel admonished. “No shower sex.”

“Of course, that’s why we have the water-resistant lube. Sitting on a shelf. In our shower.”

Castiel turned and glared at him but slid his arms around Dean’s waist. “Nobody likes a smart-ass.” Dean grinned, reaching around to grab handfuls of Castiel’s rear.

“I like _your_ smart ass.”

Their relationship had been a little rocky starting out, with the distance and the fact that their initial connection had been so physical, so after a couple of months when Dean announced that he was resigning his position at the Campbell Foundation to come help Castiel run his project full-time. It had seemed like a rash, impulsive, _terrible_ idea. So, of course, they’d jumped into it right away.

As it turned out, with Castiel’s gift for strategy and Dean’s ability to always find a way to save money on something, they were able to stretch the Foundation’s grant even further than Castiel had initially planned. And with their first groups of high school tours and volunteers coming on this fall, things were looking particularly bright.

Castiel watched the diffuse sunlight from the window in their bedroom dance across the freckles on Dean’s skin, still flushed from the shower, and contemplated the ring hidden at the back of his desk drawer just down the hall. All their family and friends were expected for a house-warming party this weekend, and perhaps it was time . . .

It was rash, impulsive, and definitely too soon. Which was, of course, their style.

“What are you smiling about?” Dean asked, pulling a t-shirt over his arms. Castiel shook his head.

“I just love you.” Dean laughed.

“I love you, too.”

Maybe it _wasn’t_ too soon?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading! Your kudos and comments are appreciated, and please don't forget to show [AgusVedder](https://agusvedder.tumblr.com/) some love on Tumblr, too!


End file.
